The Sparkling Water Psychotic

A 125 Word Short Story

J. Marshall

Kraft reached into the fridge and grabbed one of the cold, thin, green cans. He handed it to his friend, Mathew.

“Here, that’s better than soda,” Kraft said.

“Okay,” Mathew said, opening the can and sipping the drink. “Damn, that’s intense like a Sprite.” He shook his head. “Where’d you get it fro — ”

“Sprite?” Kraft interjected, then pointed to the door. “You disrespectful fuck.”

Mathew raised his eyebrows. “Huh?”

Kraft’s expression remained nonplussed. “Get out.”

“You’re kidding, right?

“OUT!” Kraft shrieked, pointing at the door. “GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OOOOOOUUUT!”

Mathew stared, stunned.

“You lost your freaking mind.”

“I’m getting my gun!” Kraft shouted, dashing upstairs.

“You crazy fuck,” Mathew shouted, and dashed out the front door.

They never saw each other again.

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